


Their Love Was Made of Promises

by mialeave



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Broken Promises, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fred Weasley Dies, Letters, POV Fred Weasley, Promises, Romantic Fluff, Teen Romance, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:21:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24573730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mialeave/pseuds/mialeave
Summary: “You better watch it, Fred.” She warned. “I have the power to give you detentions this year if you act up and I won’t go easy.”“Promise?” Fred asked challengingly.ORAll of the promises in Fred and Hermione’s relationship which began in his final year and ended in hers.
Relationships: Fred Weasley & George Weasley, Hermione Granger & Fred Weasley, Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley
Comments: 5
Kudos: 103





	Their Love Was Made of Promises

“To Ron and Hermione being announced as prefects,” Molly held up her glass in a toast. Everyone sat around the large dining table at 12 Grimmauld Place cheered. It was the night before they were set to return to Hogwarts and the Order had gathered to celebrate. 

“Don’t worry, Harry. Your dad and I weren’t picked for prefects either. Something about a ‘spotty record’ or something like that.” Sirius said with a wink to his godson. Harry smiled back at him, cheered by his revelation.

“May we also congratulate Harry, who was cleared of all charges and allowed to attend Hogwarts this year!” Molly continued and another whoop came from the table. “And well done to Fred and George for making it to their final year.” 

The twins stood during their cheer, bowing dramatically.

“Thank you, mother,” George said.

“We certainly were surprised too,” Fred added.

“We can’t say we’ll be the smartest,” George admitted.

“But we will certainly make it interesting.” Fred finished as the two once again bowed and returned to their seats while everyone else laughed.

Fred turned to his right where Hermione was sat. “Aren’t you excited, Granger?”

“You better watch it, Fred.” She warned. “I have the power to give you detentions this year if you act up and I won’t go easy.”

“Promise?” Fred asked challengingly.

* * *

She definitely didn’t go easy on him. Fred had amassed three detentions in the first few weeks of classes for advertising to test his inventions on students. He had argued it was unfair, why should he alone be made to sit in detention when George was equally guilty. Hermione rationalised that it was because she hadn’t seen George hanging posters and trying to talk first years into risking their health. It had gone back and forth until finally, Fred conceded. If his punishment was to be stuck in a classroom for an hour at a time with Hermione, then he would happily serve his time.

“You know,” Fred said after they had been sitting in the charms room for forty-five of the sixty-minute detention. “This is sort of like a date.”

“Oh really?” Hermione asked. 

“Yeah well, it’s just me and you alone.” He gestured between them. “Sat closely in an empty room.” He wiggled his eyebrows, “Anything could happen.”

“You’re the one that sat next to me,” she said. “I’m pretty sure you’re not even supposed to _be_ this side of the desk.” She gestured to the teacher’s desk and where he had pulled up a chair beside her.

“It’s cold,” He justified. “It’s not my fault it’s September and you picked a room without a fireplace.” 

She rolled her eyes at him. “Is that all that constitutes a date to you, then? Being sat alone in a room.”

“To start with.” He said. “Though I would have much preferred our first date to be somewhere a little nicer than Flitwick’s room” He sighed as he looked around at the dusty room. “Still, I’m sure we can still make this work.”

Hermione snorted at his words. “Say this was a date, where exactly would it have been?” She asked a bit too curiously.

“You’ll have to find out.”

Her eyebrows furrowed at his response “Wha-”

“Times up,” Fred announced, pointing to the clock. “But how about Saturday? I can show you what a real date should look like.” He playfully winked as he helped her gather her belongings.

“Okay,” She replied, her cheeks dusted pink. “But promise to stop testing your products on unsuspecting first years, I really do worry about them,” Hermione asked seriously as they left the classroom. “And tuck your shirt in, Weasley.”

“For you, Hermione? Anything.”

* * *

Since Fred and George’s shop had opened earlier that month it had been wildly successful. Hermione had seemed to love the design when she had first seen it. The mismatched furniture, the insane colour scheme and the constantly bustling shop, she claimed, fit them perfectly. He had been pleased to hear it, not realising until then how much he had wanted her approval.

He stayed at the Burrow during her easter break, not wanting to waste any time with her. They spent their days after he finished in the shop going for adventures in the surrounding fields. He showed her where he and George had built a fort years ago.

“We did it the muggle way,” he bragged as he showed off the small den. It had been assembled by gathering large sticks and balancing them together like a teepee. “Though, it’s a bit small for us now.” He tapped the hut with the toe of his shoe. He wasn’t sure if even his whole torso would fit in there anymore.

“It’s brilliant,” Hermione stated, smiling at the charming structure.

“I’ve been thinking,” Fred said that night in the front room. It had been a couple of hours since everyone else had gone to bed. Hermione’s leg was thrown over one of his, her head tucked under his chin. The heat of the fire and the blankets piled on them kept them in a snuggly state on the sofa. 

“Hm?” She asked wordlessly, blissfully dozing on his chest.

“I love you,” He said. He wanted to say it before she had to return for the next term of school.

She raised herself on her elbows, looking down at him with fervent eyes. “I love you too.”

* * *

That summer, Fred had been ecstatic when Hemione had asked to help experiment with new ideas for products. She had taken to staying with him in the flat upstairs on the nights they were up late trialling new potions or talking.

“Hermione!” Fred called from the experimentation room one morning. The potion he was working on had just blown up in his face, casting off large gooey chunks all over the room and on him. There was no way he could clean all this himself.

“Yeah?” Her voice came distantly from the living room upstairs.

“Remember how you promised to love me no matter what?” He called back, already bracing himself for a scolding.

* * *

“I got you something,” Fred said when they were waiting at the platform for the Hogwarts Express.

“Really?” Hermione asked, surprised.

“Yeah, for your birthday and to congratulate you on achieving ten O.W.L.s,” she had amazed him by her brilliance, “but also to keep you from missing me too much this year.” He said teasingly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box.

“It’s not going to explode is it?” She asked warily, eyeing the box in her hand. 

“No spoilers,” Fred replied. “Just, wait till your birthday to open it, okay?”

His wrist warmed when he was in bed a few weeks later. She had waited.

He looked down at the thin bracelet on his wrist, the twin to Hermione’s. He had gotten the idea from her last year with the DA coins. If they were to tap the band twice with two fingers, the other’s band would warm. He had thought that that way, they could let the other know they were thinking about them.

He soon after received an owl from her.

_Thank you for my bracelet, I love it. I swear I’m never going to take it off._

_Love you, H._

* * *

“What an arse,” Fred said. He had been owling Hermione during her first term back and was less than impressed by Cormac Mclaggen’s pursuit of Hermione. She had been made very uncomfortable, especially when he had relentlessly followed her around at Professor Slughorn’s Christmas party. In her latest letter, she had recalled his latest attempt to impress her by bragging about his Quidditch skills. His attempts to put down Harry, Ginny and Ron in order to upraise his own prestige had irritated Hermione to the point of an outburst. Fred wished he could have been there. Instead, he sent Mclaggen a gift.

Hermione and Fred spent boxing day in his new muggle-style fort, a surprise from Hermione. After the loud celebratory Christmas, they both enjoyed the quiet day spent in the woods together.

“I think we could stay here,” Fred said as he looked around at the sizable fortress. He could already imagine where he’d put furniture. “No one would find us this far out.”

It was a tempting offer, but Hermione shook her head. “No, I’d need running water. Besides, how would we find food? I doubt you watched Bear Grylls growing up.”

“Bear who?”

“Exactly. We’d be hopeless.”

“Well, it’s an option.” He was almost gutted. “We could avoid everyone if we wanted.”

“Hmm, speaking of avoiding people,” Hermione had been reminded of her last dinner before returning home for Christmas “did you anonymously owl Mclaggen a boxing telescope?” Hermione asked.

“..would you still love me if I did?” Fred asked.

She smiled.

* * *

“I bet you a fiver you cry at the vows,” Fred said as they exited the fireplace. The majority of their day had been spent making last-minute changes and plans for Bill and Fleur’s upcoming wedding.

“You may never know if I do,” Hermione said. “It’s not too late to buy a fascinator, I’ll wear one and you won’t be able to tell from the front.”

“You little witch.” Fred flopped down on the sofa, patting the spot next to him for her to join him. “I’ll know, though. You can try and hide it but I would see it on your face.”

“Maybe.” He would, he had spent enough hours staring at her. 

“We can’t hide anything from each other. You’re just gonna have to get used to it, you’re stuck with me.”

She hadn’t smiled as he had expected. In fact, her gaze became troubled and she focused on a spot on the wall.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. 

She looked up at him again, her face apprehensive.

“Why are you upset?” He asked, unsure why her mood had shifted so suddenly. “It’s soon, isn’t it? When you leave.”

She nodded her head, unable to talk past her choked throat. 

“It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” He said, his mind already in turmoil. He had to be strong for her.

“It won’t.” She was right, of course, she always was. “Fred, I can’t do this. I’m not ready.” The pain in her eyes broke his heart.

“You are ready, I know you are. I know you.” He pulled her into his side. “You’ll do this and then you can come home and we will finally adopt a cat because George will bugger off and move out.”

She huffed a laugh.

“Life will go on after all of this ends. I promise it will.”

“Fred,” Her eyes were anguished. “We need to-” She cut herself off, struggling to find the right words. “There is a very real possibility that something will go wrong and I won’t come back. I need to tell you that-”

This time it was he who interrupted her. “Nothing will go wrong. You will survive this. I will make sure of it.”

“No one has the power to guarantee that.”

“I do. I would trade my life for yours if it came down to it, don’t think I won’t.”

“Then maybe you don’t know me. You can’t say you’ll do that, I would not let that happen.”

“Like hell, I can’t. Watch me.” She had been through so much pain, she had made herself an orphan just to keep her parents safe and was facing an unknown amount of time on the run from a terrorist group set out to kill her and her best friends. He would protect her or he would die trying.

* * *

The morning of the wedding Hermione had smiled at breakfast, laughing with his sister as they fluttered around getting ready. Fred had almost made himself late just watching her. She wore red, the same shade as the jumper he had given her two years ago when they had started dating. The golden ‘F’ knitted in the front had looked too pretty on her for him to ever take back. 

She cried during the ceremony, just as he had bet, but he felt no victory from her tears. He caught her gaze, trying to reassure her from his position in line with his brothers. She had given him a watery smile before looking down to her small beaded bag. 

When they danced, he held her tight, her head tucked under his chin. Soon she would be leaving, it was an inevitability. They hadn’t discussed it again, when he had tried to bring it up she had hushed him and told him that she didn’t want to talk about it. She wanted to remain in the present, tucked into his arms. 

They slowly spun on the dancefloor, completely absorbed in each other. He felt her tears wet his shirt. The moisture made his chest contract. He squeezed her closer, the movement compelling a small sob from her. He pulled back enough to look at her. Her face was red, she looked agonised. 

“What is it, love?” He asked her. He would tear his heart from his chest if it would stop her misery.

“I-.” She said, struggling past a lump in her throat.

He brought her out of the tent, leading her inside the quiet cottage. The sofa on which she sat was where he had first told her he loved her by the light of the fire over a year ago.

“I don’t love you anymore.” She said as he knelt in front of her. Her tears had stopped, her face solidified into impassiveness.

“What? Since when?” He asked, confused.

“Now.” She said as she looked into the low fire. “Just now.” 

He made her look at him in the eye. “You’re just scared. It doesn’t matter that you’re leaving, I love you. None of it matters.” 

“It’s too late,” She said, still stone-faced. “I don’t love you anymore.”

“Stop doing this. Don’t pull away from me when we need each other the most.”

“That’s the thing, I don’t need you.”

“Can you honestly say you feel nothing for me? You can’t, I know you can’t. Just, _please_. Don’t do this,” he pleaded with her. “You aren’t helping either of us by doing this.”

She didn’t reply to him, she just continued to stare at him. This was not the person who had been in love with him since she was twelve years old, who had planned the rest of her life with him. That person had stepped away, allowing this stranger control. 

She didn’t speak again, regardless of how much he begged her to _please_ talk to him. The only thing she did respond to was a sudden commotion from outside. There was screaming and chaos, the sky alight with fire. She rose for the door but he grabbed her arm before she could leave. 

“You promised,” He said, his voice breaking.

He pleaded with his eyes for her to stay but she just turned away. He could have collapsed into a heap from the force of that final blow but his family was out there. The ministry had fallen, the Death Eaters had arrived. Hermione was already gone.

When the Death Eaters had finally gone and the remaining Weasley family had finished cleaning the disorder, Fred got more drunk than he had been since he was sixteen. 

* * *

It had been three months since she had gone. George had since moved back into the Burrow, claiming a want to be there for their Mum. Fred suspected it was to avoid him, not that he could blame George. He couldn’t bring himself to wash the sheets or move anything Hermione had left in the flat. There was one of his t-shirts she liked to sleep in still neatly folded under her pillow where she had put it the morning of the wedding. Her books piled on most empty surfaces of his living room, she had meant to clean them but hadn’t gotten around to doing so. She existed only as a ghost to him now. He embraced it, the haunting memory of her love the only way he could feel she was with him. He could hear her in the silence of the flat, see her in the corner of his eye. If she were to come back, Fred would be right where she had left him.

He considered that maybe this wasn’t healthy, that she was still alive and fighting to end the war, but she had refused any and all communication. She had taken off her bracelet without him even realising. He had found it in her bedside drawer. He sent a Patronus one night, the bird impatiently flying out of his open window. He had wondered that if he could fly fast enough, would if he able to follow the bird to her. Even if he could have, he was disappointed to find later the wispy figure returned having been unable to find her. She had made herself untraceable, even to him.

It was on one of the days George had dragged him to the Burrow that they received any type of update. Ron trudged through the kitchen door, shabby and crabby but no worse for wear. For a heartbeat, Fred allowed himself to hope that it was over. That Hermione and Harry would follow in behind him, smiles on their faces. It wasn’t over.

He learnt from Ron that they had been listening to Lee Jordans’s Potterwatch. This made his heart lift by some degree. He had put, into the broadcasts, messages to Hermione to remind her that he was still here, waiting for her, fighting for her. He insisted, when the next broadcast came, to speak.

Christmas was the most melancholy in Weasley history. Not only were Harry and Hermione still out facing Merlin knows what, Percy was still in London, Arthur was under strict surveillance at the Ministry and Ginny’s account of Hogwarts sounded near dystopian. Ron had also grown more and more miserable. He spent most of his day in silence, stewing. Fred pulled him aside that night when everyone had retreated to bed early, eager to have the day be over.

“You’re going back, aren’t you?” Fred asked.

“I don’t know how, but I’m going to try,” Ron admitted.

Fred nodded at him. “I need you to do something for me.”

* * *

He was woken from his bed in the middle of the night. Disorientated in the unfamiliar bedroom at their Aunt Muriels, he almost missed George’s words. “She’s at the cottage.”

He shot up, alert. “What do you mean? Bill’s cottage? Right now?” He raced around the room already getting dressed.

“Fred, sit down,” George said morosely from where he sat on the bed. “That’s not all.”

Fred sat down begrudgingly, already apprehensive of the expression on his brother’s face. “What else is there?”

“They got caught by snatchers.” George began slowly. 

Fred shot up again, unable to remain still. He wanted to rush there. Why was his brother still sitting? 

“Fred,” George said. His voice caught and Fred saw for the first time that there were tears running down his face. “She was taken to Malfoy Manor. They-” He again choked on his words. “They interrogated her; used the cruciatus curse and carved into her arm.”

Fred sank to the floor. This had to be wrong. Hermione was fine, she had to be fine. He shot up, once again rushing to get ready. “Why aren’t we leaving? We need to see her.”

“I’m sorry, Freddie,” George said, still sitting on the bed. “I’ve only just found out. Harry had Bill and Fleur sworn to secrecy for their own safety.”

Fred stopped. “What are you saying, George?” He looked at him in dread.

“They’re leaving,” George explained.

“What do you mean ‘leaving’? She needs to heal!” Fred said frantically.

“They’ve been there for weeks already,” George said. “They need to keep going now more than ever, you know they do.”

Fred sat on the bed beside his brother, wiping his eyes and rubbing his forehead. “When do they go?” He asked.

“I don’t know exactly,” George admitted. “But if you leave now, you might catch them.”

Fred looked to him, a hopeful glint in George’s eye. He stood without speaking and apparated out of their small room.

He apparated on the beach. The cascading waves tremulously pounded into the sand, the shriek of gulls echoing in his ears. From the raised cliffs a small distance away, he saw four figures. One was short, he thought perhaps a goblin, two were Ron and Harry, he was sure of it after recognising them during quidditch so often from a distance. The last, however, was a mystery. It was a woman, he was sure of that, but her stature was unfamiliar to him. They disappeared from the cliff before he had the chance to call out. 

He looked to the small house, Hermione must still be within. He ran, kicking up sand and almost tripping in the weeds. He charged through the door, scaring Bill and Fleur inside. 

“Fred?” They looked to him in confusion.

“Where’s Hermione?” he blurted, already hectically searching the kitchen. When he didn’t find her he charged through the door, searching the whole house before returning to the kitchen. He looked at them expectantly.

“She just left,” Bill said, baffled by his brother's behaviour.

“But I,” Fred began, deflating. “No one told me.”

Bill got up, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Fred. She told us she didn’t want you to know.”

He had to get out of this house, the house where she had _hidden_ from him in. He stormed out of the door, apparating away as soon as he was outside of the surrounding boundary.

* * *

Fred hadn’t remembered putting it in his jacket, the fake Galleon he had received from Hermione as part of Dumbledore’s army two years ago, but the next day it reactivated. The heat of the coin cut through the fabric, warming his chest where it rested against his skin. Pulling it out, Fred examined it. The date had changed around the edge. Today. Now. He had to tell George. 

His twin already knew, in his hand a small radio calling repeatedly: 

_Lightning has struck! Lightning has struck!_

“Ready Fred?” George asked.

“Ready George!” Fred replied.

He wasn’t sure if it was purposeful, clothes matching with his brother’s, or a subconscious link to connect them through what was to come. Either way, when they stepped into the tunnel in the Hog’s Head, they did it as a team.

They entered the cramped base, like the other Order members, to whoops and cheers. Dozens of students crowded around the mouth of the tunnel to greet them. Fred paid them half-hearted greetings, his eyes searching the room. 

He found her by instinct, seven years of watching her had that effect. She was scruffy, her favourite hoodie smeared with dirt and her hair half falling out of its braid, but her eyes were alight and met his.

He pushed through the crowd, desperate to be closer to her. When he approached, neither said any words and moulded against each other in a tight embrace. Home. He was home for the first time in months. Both of their faces were soaked with tears when they parted, coming together in a watery kiss.

“I’m sorry,” Hermione said against his skin. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She kept repeating it, pulling him closer as she did.

“Hermione,” Fred said, pulling back the least he could to see her. “It’s good to see you.”

They didn’t have time for a longer reunion. Snape was rallying all of the students, it was time. They kept ahold of each other all the while, from the seventh floor to the Great Hall and through everything that happened. When Snape retreated through the large stained glass window, glass showering down around them, they knew they had to let go.

“I need to go, he needs me.” She said.

“I know,” He replied. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She said, reaching up to give him a slow, meaningful kiss.

* * *

The battle raged on around Fred who narrowly avoided the spells flying past his head. Midnight had passed and Voldemort’s forces had invaded the castle. He hadn’t seen Hermione since their separation before her search for the diadem. He could feel her presence through the bracelet he had had returned to her the day after Christmas.

With Percy at his back, they fought their way through the castle. Red and green exploded around them like fireworks. A distant part of Fred’s brain thought of the last time he had been in this castle and the exuberant display he had George had released. It felt so much longer than eighteen months ago. 

Hermione, Ron and Harry emerged from down the corridor. The warmth caused by his proximity to Hermione fuelling his reflection and aiming of spells. He felt more alive and happy than he could ever remember feeling.

An errant spell de-masked the Death Eater Percy was duelling with. It was the Minister of Magic. Percy, likely filled with the same exhilaration as the rest of them, quipped to his superior.

“You actually _are_ joking, Perce. I don’t think I’ve heard you joke since you were-”

Everything cut out.

* * *

It had been the last time Fred had truly laughed in nine months. When they pulled his body from the wreckage of the demolished wall, the smile was still etched upon his face. 

They had to move him, that much was clear, but Hermione didn’t want to abandon him again. She wouldn’t stuff him in a niche where a suit of armour had previously been as the others urged. There was only one Horcrux left, Harry and Ron could finish it together. She stayed with Fred as the world continued to fall apart.

They had come so close their happy ending. But that didn’t matter now.

Fred was dead.

They won the war in the end but a large part of Hermione never left that battle. 

* * *

She spent over a month clearing his stuff out of the flat. Seeing the physical impact of her decisions tormented her. He hadn’t moved anything, she was almost certain that if she went into the bathroom even her toiletries would be in the exact place she had left them. She had devastated him, made him miserable. How could she justify that breaking up with him had been what she had thought was best for him.

In the trunk at the end of their bed, she found a collection of parchment tied together by a cord of leather. They were letters, or at least some were, others were just half-finished notes or scribbled sentences. 

_Hermione, love, please let me speak to you._

_Running away doesn’t help anyone..._

_I know why you did it but…_

_I miss you._

_I still love you._

The phrases jumped from the pages, each of them a fresh strike. It took days before she could approach the trunk again. Buried at the bottom of the trunk, she found a sealed envelope with her name carefully written on it. Tentatively, she broke the wax to remove the letter.

_Hermione,_

_If you’re reading this, I’ve died. I know I said nothing bad would happen so it would appear you are right again. Even the best of us are wrong sometimes, you’ll have to forgive me for that. Everyone wants a happy ending, mine was to live here with you until we were both old and grey. Life doesn’t guarantee anything, however, so capture happiness wherever you can._

_I don’t blame you for leaving me. We are both very stubborn and I probably would have done the same in your position. I only regret the time we lost but I will be waiting on this side until you join me. Promise it won’t be for a long, long time. Until then, don’t be sad or mourn me. I have had a great life in this world and you have shown me what it means to truly love somebody and be loved in return. For that, I will forever be grateful. I am onto the next great adventure discovering the mysteries of what lies beyond._

_I have written letters for George and the rest of my family, please deliver them for me. Give them all a kiss from me, for you have all of my love now and always._

_Forever yours,_

_Fred._


End file.
